


The Dark Brotherhood Forever

by leewrites



Series: With Friends Like These... [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark Brotherhood AU, Gen, M/M, Reference to Rape, Skyrim AU, but no actual sexual assault occurs, depictions of violence, probably more tags once i actually write more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 19:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17669045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leewrites/pseuds/leewrites
Summary: Companion Fic to 'Silence, my brother'Before they joined the Dark Brotherhood they all had stories. The first hunt, the first kill. Few things are as sweet...'What is life's greatest illusion?'Innocence, my brother.





	The Dark Brotherhood Forever

**Author's Note:**

> It's been nearly two years since I wrote anything and nearly FIVE years since I wrote 'Silence, my brother' but here it is
> 
> the first chapter of the Assassin!Pack backstory
> 
> full disclaimer; I haven't watched Teen Wolf or player Skyrim in a few years so basically..... all of my knowledge is pretty shaky

No one is sure how those that are born in the light learn to walk the shadowed path of the Dark Brotherhood, some say it's mere chance, others fate, and some say that the Night Mother can see all her children, all beings that bear the stain of The Void on their souls. And that she calls to them, draws them to her.

 

However it happens, it does. And the Brotherhood grows.

 

* * *

PART ONE - Tymvaul (Stiles) 

 

* * *

In a small hut not far from Dawnstar a squalling boy-child is born. He is born with his father's thick, pale Nordic skin and his mother's dark Imperial colouring. They name him Tymvaul and, for a time, they are happy.

 

* * *

All does not stay well in that little hut, with that little family. When the boy is still small a winter unlike any other ripped through Skyrim. The wind shrieked and howled and it snowed for days on end.

 

The child's parents feared that the cold would kill him, but it was not the child they should've feared for. Though young and small the child is a Nord, and like all Nords he was made to endure the cold. It is not the boy who is stolen away by the harsh winter, it is the mother.

 

* * *

Even after the sun shines and the thick snow melts the boy’s mother stays weak and feverish. The boy’s father prays, he prays to Arkay, that his wife would not be stolen from him, and to Stendarr that his wife would be spared.

 

The gods don’t hear his prayers, or maybe they just don’t care, the boy doesn’t claim to understand. All he knows is that his mother is dead and that the gods didn’t help them. Rage grows in Tymvaul’s chest like a weed, choking every part of him that was soft and kind until he feels like his skin should split under all the thorns wrapped around his bones. 

 

* * *

Tymvaul and his father move to Dawnstar not long after, his father joins the Dawnguard and for a time they continue on. 

 

Only a few years after their migration to Dawnstar Tymvaul discovered a strange door, with an unbreakable lock and a skull carved onto the face. When his small hands first touched the icy stone a voice, dark and soft with a shake not unlike a death rattle echoed through his head.

 

_ “What… is life’s greatest… illusion?” _

 

“What…?” Tymvaul whispered, looking into the darkened pits where the skulls eye sockets were.

 

“ _ You… are not… worthy…” _

 

From that moment no matter what Tymvaul did, how hard her tried to pick the locks or how many hours he spent talking to the door; it never made another sound.

 

* * *

It didn’t take long for people to take offence to Tymvaul’s behaviour. He turned away from the children his age, more interested in stealing away into secret spaces and spying, and, after his discovery of the strange black door, trying to unlock its secrets.

 

Things came to a head rather rapidly not long after Tymvaul’s 15th winter. He had grown tall and strong, although he would never gain his father’s thick Nordic muscle. His mother's dark Breton hair and bright golden eyes paired with his fathers pale smooth skin meant that many watched Tymvaul as he went about his chores.

 

Unfortunately for the men who whispered in the Windpeak Inn about how they’d like to see just how wide his plush mouth could split, Tymvaul had learnt more than riddles and how to pick locks over the years.

 

He may not of had the soft fur and mewling voices of their own young but the Khajiit merchants were nevertheless fond of the little human boy who would so often come to them begging for stories and for them to show him ‘clever knife tricks.’ And, so far away from their families and the warm desert sand of Elsweyr they took what pleasure they could in training a barely grown cub to wield a blade like it had always been a part of him.

 

* * *

Tolfred thought that the boy would be easy, he never roughhoused with the other children. Hid himself in books and with those fucking Khajiit and off on his own in the woods surrounding Dawnstar.

 

A simple easy mark, he’d have some fun and… impress on the boy as to why he shouldn’t bother going to the guard and then he’d be on his way.

He never saw the knife sharp smirk, never thought about how beautiful things are always at least a little dangerous. And Tymvaul? Was more than a little dangerous.

 

* * *

If there’s one thing that Tymvaul regretted about killing Tolfred it was how fast it was over. You only really get one first kill and Tymvaul had gotten eager, excited. 

 

Had struck too hard and too deep and let the heedy rush of Tolfred’s life blood on his exposed skin get to his head. When he came back to himself, painting with Tolfred’s blood turning to ice on his skin he could faintly hear the sounds of Dawnguard coming closer to investigate.

 

With an almost tender touch Tymvaul drew a wide smile on Tolfred’s face with his blood then, like a ghost, vanished back into the woods that had been his sanctuary for years.

 

* * *

He’d almost managed to hide it, there’d been no tracks to follow from the clearing where he’d killed Tolfred and, although he’d wanted to wear Tolfred’s blood until it dried and flaked off him, he’d scrubbed himself as clean as he could in one of the icy streams that fed into the ocean.

 

Unfortunately his father was just as clever as he was.

 

* * *

“Tymvaul-” his father’s voice breaks off, snaps like too thin ice under the weight of a body. Tymvaul’s body goes stiff and tight, not like prey but like a predator waiting for a strike.

 

“Today in the woods…

“We found a body Tymvaul, and it was were you used to play…”

 

“Dad,” he whispered, voice careful. He doesn’t want to hurt his father, knows that it wouldn’t feel good to kill him. That his blood wouldn’t slide like the finest silk over his hands but stick and stain like the worst kind of mud. It’d stick and dry and he’d never get all of it out.

 

“You need to leave.” Tymvaul flinched back despite himself, but before he could get away his father pulled him into a hug. Clutched him to his chest like he hadn’t since Tymvaul had been a little boy, “You are  _ my son _ and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you but the other guards are already suspicious. If you stay they’ll kill you and I would die trying to defend you.

 

“Live my son, even if you’re far from me I can handle it if it means you’re  **_alive_ ** .”

 

* * *

In the morning, well before the sun even began to poke it’s face over the horizon Tymvaul stood at the edge of Dawnstar, he gave his father a final hug, face pressed into his chest like he was still a boy. And then he turned away, away from Dawnstar and the mysterious door and the remains of an old hut where a family of three once lived happily and moved forward. 

 

Into something new.

 

‘ _ You… are not… worthy…’  _ A voice whispered from his memory and he smirked, felt the weight of his fathers eyes on his back and the dagger in his belt and thought,

 

_ That’s what you think. _

**Author's Note:**

> no editing we die like men
> 
> Twitter: @quitepossiblee  
> tumblr: captainleeee.tumblr.com  
> pillowfort: www.pillowfort.io/imaginedarc


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